


First

by PieHeda



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Addiction, Dubious Consent, F/F, Foster Care, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Marijuana, Minor Violence, Neglect, Non-Consensual Kissing, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 02:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieHeda/pseuds/PieHeda
Summary: "Once the hall is empty, she kisses Jillian. It’s a fast kiss, only a little more than a peck on the lips, but the meaning is unmistakable. Boone lets her go, and walks away backwards, smiling. Jillian walks into her Literature class. She cannot focus. Her entire world has changed."Fifteen year-old Holtzmann meets her first girlfriend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is an origin story for Holtzmann, and is in the same universe as the series of Yatesmann stories I wrote, starting with The Sexiest Woman on the Train. 
> 
> It is different in tone from that series of stories, and I urge you to read the tags on this one. It is probably not for everyone. 
> 
> The reason for this turn into darkness starts with the story Thirteen in that series, when Holtzmann mentions her first girlfriend. Since then, that girlfriend was the gun that you saw in the first act. I wouldn't have put it there if I didn't plan to fire it. 
> 
> (And really, you saw it in Sexiest Woman on the Train when Holtzmann breaks down about her ex.)
> 
> Many thanks to the brilliant AudreyV, who provided me with support in the unfamiliar territory of dub-con, and the exact feedback I needed on early drafts. I'm not sure I could have finished it without your help.

Jillian Holtzmann is fifteen.

She walks to school alone in black combat boots, baggy cargo pants, a black X-Files T-shirt, and an over-sized unbuttoned blue plaid flannel shirt. Her untamable blonde curls are in her face. It’s her first day at this school. This is the fourth new school she has attended since starting high school.

She approaches another group of students on the sidewalk. They are noisy, and to Jillian they look like a mass of torn jeans, black concert shirts, and messy hair. She turns her face down and walks past. Making friends has never been easy. The popular kids find her too nerdy. The cool kids find her too smart. The nerdy kids find her too weird. Jocks seem like an alien race to her, and she to them.

“Hey you, girl!” shouts out one of the girls in the group. Jillian looks up at a tall, lean girl in a Hole T-shirt. Her hair is dark, with bright blue streaks through it. Jillian likes the way it looks. She also likes her eyes. They are dark, framed in black eyeliner, with dark eyebrows that arch above them. Jillian’s face heats up when she looks at her.

“I like your T-shirt,” the tall girl says. “The X-files is cool.”

Jillian nods, and smiles.

The girl introduces herself as Rachel, but a boy in the group says that her name is Boone. They laugh.

“Why Boone?” Jillian says to the girl.

“Because she loves Boone’s Farm,” says one of the boys, and they laugh again.

“Ugh, that green shit made me puke my guts up,” she says.

“Yeah, well two bottles will do that,” says another one of the boys. More laughter. Jillian doesn’t understand what’s so funny.

The girl looks at Jillian and shakes her head. “Ignore them. But yeah, call me Boone. What’s your name?”

“Jillian,” she says.

Boone smiles at her.

“An X-Files fan named Jillian. That’s almost too perfect,” Boone says. Jillian feels a heaviness in her chest. She wants to talk to this girl. She wants her to smile at her. She wants her to call her perfect again.

She can’t think of anything to say. She looks down, and her curls almost hide her smile.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Boone says.

“I guess so.”

“It’s cute.” Jillian’s face heats up again. Boone sees this, and smiles at her. “Hang out with us. What’s your class schedule like?”

Jillian learns that Boone is two years older. They are not in any of the same classes. Still, throughout the day, she finds Boone waiting for her after each class. She walks Jillian to each of her classes, and in those precious few moments they talk about The X-Files. Boone seems unconcerned with getting to her own classes on time. Instead, she leans against the wall talking with her, outside the door of Jillian’s class, up until the moment the bell rings.

Right before the last class of the day, Boone tells Jillian that she will see her after school. When the bell rings, she puts an arm around Jillian’s neck and holds onto her as all the other students file into the class. Once the hall is empty, she kisses Jillian. It’s a fast kiss, only a little more than a peck on the lips, but the meaning is unmistakable. Boone lets her go, and walks away backwards, smiling. Jillian walks into her Literature class. She cannot focus. Her entire world has changed.

After class Boone is waiting for her, as promised. “Walk me home.” Jillian knows she is supposed to go home immediately, but her foster parents won’t be home from work until after 6:00. She nods, and follows Boone.

Boone’s house is empty, but she leads Jillian to her room and locks the door. She puts on a Nirvana album and turns up the volume. The room strikes Jillian as a cave-like shrine to grunge rock. She stares at the posters on the walls, wondering how it feels to take ownership of a room like this.

“Hey,” Boone says, taking Jillian’s hand. “Come here.” She pulls Jillian towards her bed. Jillian shivers with excitement as Boone guides her onto her lap so that she straddles her legs. She pulls Jillian’s face down to hers and this time, it’s not like any kiss Jillian has ever experienced. Boone’s tongue skims her lips. She opens her mouth to her, and the sensation of Boone’s tongue stroking hers makes her nervous and self-conscious and ecstatic.

Boone pulls away and smirks. “You’ve never kissed before, have you?”

Jillian blushes. She shakes her head. “So you’re also a virgin?” says Boone. Jillian takes a breath. She wants to hide. “Yes,” says Jillian.

Boone’s smile broadens, and for a terrifying moment, Jillian thinks she’s about to laugh at her. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” She grasps the back of Jillian’s neck, and presses her mouth hotly to her own.

Jillian feels wonderfully helpless. Her confidence grows, and before long she has her hands in Boone’s hair, holding her face, daring to take control. Something she has never felt grows inside of her. She tries to quantify it. She thinks of guys on TV that she always found appealing, but not attractive. Other girls put pictures of them in their lockers and write their names on notebooks: Mrs. Luke Perry. Mrs. Leonardo DiCaprio. It makes sense now. On top of Boone, she feels like Jordan Catalano.

The suddenness of Boone’s hand inside her T-shirt yanks her from this thought. Her pulse pounds in her ears as Boone’s hand finds her breast. She fumbles with Boone’s shirt and settles for pulling it off. Soon both of their bras and shirts are on the floor. Boone’s mouth and fingers are relentless on her nipples. Jillian lets her head fall back, dizzy with the sensation. She is disappointed when Boone suddenly shifts to put her on her back and lies down next to her. Then Boone slides her hand under the waist of Jillian’s pants.

She wants to stop her. She doesn’t want to stop her. Through the shock of excitement as Boone’s hand retreats further down, Jillian thinks _Paradox._ _Two opposite states simultaneously._ Her breath hitches as Boone’s fingers part her labia.

Boone kisses her hungrily while tracing circles around her clit, and Jillian is breathless, gasping for air, drowning on dry land.

Her body fills with electricity, spreading across her until her hands and face are tingling. Just as she learns to keep breathing, the sensation radiating from her clit gathers and swells, and her hips buck uncontrollably as she soars over the edge. She moans into Boone’s mouth and wraps her tightly in her arms.

She gently rolls Boone onto her back. On top of her, Jillian covers her in kisses and savors the closeness of Boone’s warm body against hers. She advances on Boone’s breasts, sucking and stroking them, mimicking the attention Boone gave her. 

“Fuck me,” says Boone.

Jillian unbuttons Boone’s fly and slips her hand into her jeans. She watches Boone while she explores her labia, and then slowly slides a finger into her. Boone’s hips rise in response, and she tries fucking her with short thrusts. The angle hurts her wrist. She pulls off Boone’s jeans. She is caught up in the sight of the naked girl’s body. She slides two fingers into Boone and thrusts again while kissing her belly, her hip, her thigh.

Boone raises herself up on her elbows and smiles wolfishly at her. “Is that all you’ve got?” Jillian watches Boone’s face as she begins fucking her faster and harder. She likes that all she has to do to please her is pay attention. When Boone comes, Jillian likes the way it feels leaning over her and watching her fall apart.

After she catches her breath, Boone sits up and yanks Jillian’s pants down. “You want me to fuck you now?”

Jillian is confused, and things are moving terrifyingly fast. “You want this?” says Boone, pushing her thighs apart and giving her a feral look. Jillian realizes it’s not a question. Boone jams her fingers into her, and she jolts with pain. She grits her teeth.

When she was younger and experimenting, she thought sliding a finger into herself was the obvious way sex worked, and was disappointed that it wasn’t terribly interesting. She continued to explore and found that what she liked most was definitely external. Over time she decided that penetration was simply not for her, although it had never hurt before.

Jillian squirms. She wonders if it should feel better when another woman is inside of her. She waits to see if it will start to feel good. It does not. She fakes an orgasm to make it stop.

Boone sits on the edge of the bed, and grabs a tray on her bedside table. Jillian lies on the bed watching her naked body as Boone rolls a joint. She lights it and inhales, then offers it to Jillian. It smells sour and unpleasant. Jillian waves it away. Her body is cooling fast, and the music feels loud and jarring to her now. She wants something that she doesn’t know how to ask for. She slides over to Boone and snakes an arm around her waist, and curls her body around her. Boone rests her hand on Jillian’s arm as she quietly sits and smokes with her back to her.

Jillian raises her head to speak, and then sees Boone’s digital alarm clock. It’s 6:13.

“Fuck,” she mutters, and gets up. “I gotta get home,” she says, pulling on her pants. “I’m sorry.” She stands in front of Boone wondering what to do. She feels compelled to kiss or hug her as an apology for leaving so suddenly.

Boone shrugs. “No problem. See you tomorrow, little Jill.”  

Jillian replays what happened in her head as she walks home. Every moment of the experience imprints onto her, each one adds a line to the map of who she is and who she will be. The thrill of touching skin against skin, the excitement and fear of going fast, the ecstasy and the pain, the taste, the acrid smell of weed.

* * *

 

Her foster parents lecture her that they were worried. She feels like they are more angry that they were inconvenienced. She sits at the kitchen table with her knees drawn into her chest, and stares at the table the whole time.

“I’m sorry.” She doesn’t know what else to say. As soon as she can get away, she heads towards her room to hide.

“Hey, Jill, come here.” Her foster brother Bill is in his room with the door open. She can hear The Smiths playing:

“Oh yes you can kick me, and you can punch me, and you can break my face but you won’t change the way I feel, ‘cause I love you…”

Jillian likes Bill. He’s 21, and he lives with his parents while going to the local state college. She was placed with his family early in the summer, and in the months leading up to the start of the school year, she has come to enjoy spending time with him. Sometimes they talk, and sometimes they just sit quietly and listen to music.

He sets his homework aside. She takes the chair from his computer desk and pulls it over, slumping down in it and propping her feet up on the bed.

“Want to tell me what her name is?” He smiles.

Jillian’s eyebrows shoot up, and she shrinks inward. “How did you...”

He points at his mouth. “You’ve got lipstick on you.” She looks at herself in the mirror on his dresser. It isn’t smudged on her face, but her lips are dark from Boone’s lipstick.

She smiles self-consciously. “Boone. I mean, Rachel. She lives a few blocks away.”

“Oh,” he says. “Her.”  He watches Jillian for a moment, then shakes his head and smiles. “Well, I guess that was something.”

She raises her eyebrows and nods, not knowing what to add to that.

“Be more careful about smelling like weed,” he says.

“I didn’t smoke…”

“I know, it’s ok. But if you’re going to hang out with her a lot, you’ll need to spray some air freshener on your clothes or something. Or take the long way home to air out a little. And if you do ever smoke, use eye drops.”

She watches him. “Do your parents know?” she says.

He glances at the door, then shakes his head. “They don’t even know that I go out to goth nights. They’re OK people, Jill. They just aren’t good with things that are too different for them.”

She nods, and stares at his books. “Pre-Calc? Can I see?” As she flips through his book, she decides she needs to apply for the advanced program at school. She nods her head to the music.

“Can you make me a copy of this?” she says, nodding towards his stereo.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll make you a tape of Hatful of Hollow too. You’ll like that.”

“Cool.” She glances at his notebook. “You got number 3 and 5 wrong.” She stands up. “I have Lit homework to do. Thanks, bro.” She smiles at him hopefully, wondering how he will respond to that.

“Anytime, little bro,” he says and grins. It’s an unexpected response, but she likes it.

* * *

 

Jillian finds Boone before school every morning. While waiting for the bell, they hang out with her tribe of torn jeans and black tees. Jillian doesn’t feel like she’s a part of this group. She doesn’t know how to talk to them, so she is quiet and listens. This doesn’t reveal any further clues. All their conversations seem to be about things they have done together, which don’t involve her. She hopes that as she spends more time with Boone, she will have things to add.

Sometimes Boone kisses her in front of the school in the morning. The boys in her group stare and catcall them. Jillian doesn’t like that, but she focuses on Boone’s lips and hands. Sometimes Boone looks at one of the boys while kissing her. This bothers Jillian. She doesn’t say anything because she’s scared Boone won’t want to kiss her anymore.

 Boone takes her back to her house once more during that first week. She shoves Jillian into her room and slams and locks the door. She switches on her stereo, then grabs Jillian and forcefully kisses her. She presses back against Boone until her lips feel bruised. Boone jerks open the fly of her jeans, and Jillian immediately feels out of control. 

She grabs Boone’s arms. Even though she is a good 6 inches shorter, Jillian handily shoves her across the room and pins her to the wall. Boone flashes her now-familiar wolfish smile, and writhes against her. Jillian returns a wicked grin of her own, and lifts Boone’s shirt over her head. She pulls it behind her back, keeping Boone’s arms trapped in the sleeves.

Jillian presses her arm against the taller woman’s chest to pin her to the wall. She yanks her jeans down with her free hand then roughly begins fucking her. Boone laughs and tilts her hips forward to meet Jillian’s thrusts. Jillian sucks hard at her nipples, letting her teeth press into them.

Every added bit of pain seems to add to Boone’s excitement. She comes quickly. When she tries to retake control, Jillian grasps her hips and slams her back against the wall, then drops to her knees. She kisses Boone’s hips. She cups her vulva in her hand while kissing her way to her center. She slides her tongue along Boone’s slit, and then begins stroking her, sliding deeper into her folds with each lick. She slides one hand down her own jeans to stroke her clit as she settles into a rhythm with her tongue. Jillian focuses in on the details of the experience; the taste, the feel, the things that get the best reaction. Boone comes again, and Jillian comes with her this time.

“Jesus, little Jill,” says Boone, catching her breath. “You’re a fucking quick learner.”

On her knees, Jillian realizes this is true. All she has to do is pay attention to what Boone reacts to, and she can push things further. This adds to the new sense of herself that Jillian likes, but can’t put a name to.

She slides up Boone’s body and kisses her lips. Suddenly Boone’s hand is hard against her cheek. She shoves Jillian away by the face.

She feels a pop. The room whirls around her and she lands on her knees, her neck burning with pain.

“What the fuck, Jill!” Boone shouts. “Do you think I want to kiss you after you’ve fucking eaten me? Wash your goddamn face first!”

Jillian drops to her elbows. The pain in her neck is so intense that she’s afraid to move. It spreads up, like a thunderstorm in her head. She holds still, covering her head with her hands, trying to breathe. Slowly the storm recedes, and she gets shakily to her feet.

 Boone helps her up. She looks nervous, but says nothing to Jillian.

“Where is your fucking bathroom?” Jillian asks. She doesn’t look at Boone. In spite of the anger in her voice, she feels terrified and stunned.

In the bathroom she examines herself in the mirror. Her cheek is red, but there won’t be a bruise. Her neck is swollen and hot. She grasps it, hissing between her teeth at the sensation. She splashes water on her face, then stares at herself in the mirror. She thinks she ought to know how to react, but she’s at a loss.

Boone is sitting on her bed smoking a joint when Jillian returns. The look on her face reminds Jillian of a dog that is in trouble. Jillian glares at her.

“I’ve washed my goddamn face now,” she says, not hiding her anger.

Boone looks irritated, but says “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Jillian crosses her arms. This little impersonation of being tough gives her a sick feeling in her stomach.

Boone sighs, and her face softens. “I really am sorry. I was fucking terrified when you hit the floor. I… are you ok?”

“I’ll live,” says Jillian, looking away from her.

“Come on Jill, please. I can’t stand you being mad at me like this.” Boone’s eyes look desperate.

Jillian stares at her. She could walk out the door right now. She could go home and tell Bill what happened. She looks at Boone’s eyes, and remembers the pain of her forcefully fucking her. She thinks about how Boone didn’t even notice how she felt.

She thinks about kissing her before school in the morning. She thinks about having a place to be.

Jillian sits next to Boone on the bed. The sick feeling returns. She observes, as if from an objective distance, that both withholding and conceding make her feel ill.

Boone puts an arm around her and pulls her close. She takes a long hit off of the joint, and then hands it to Jillian.

Jillian looks at it between her fingers for a moment, thinking about the throbbing pain in her neck. Her mind lands on something she once read - marijuana and pain relief. She takes a hit, and coughs. She tries again, inhaling slowly. They pass the joint back and forth, and soon the burning in her neck has dulled and her head is swimming. Once they have finished the joint, Boone tenderly strokes her blonde curls and gently kisses her lips. Jillian notes that although Boone has kissed her many times, this is the sweetest kiss she has given her. She registers dissonance in the back of her mind at this. 

Jillian breaks the kiss and lies back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, letting herself focus on the swimmy feeling of the high. Boone lies down next to her.

“You can’t ever do that again,” says Jillian. “If you ever hurt me again…”

Boone takes her hand. “I know. I won’t. I promise it was an accident.”

Jillian wonders what she would have said if Boone hadn’t stopped her. If… then what? Would she hurt her back? She doesn’t believe she could shove or hit a girl like that.

Would she leave her? She tightens her grip on Boone’s hand and thinks of how much has happened this week. It seemed unreal when they first kissed. It still does. She has never felt the way Boone makes her feel. She searches herself and finds that Boone still makes her feel this way.

* * *

 

Jillian remembers Bill’s advice, and sprays air freshener from Boone’s bathroom on herself before walking home. She doesn’t like the freesia scent, but she’s sure it’s better than the pungent smell of weed. She puts on her headphones and walks home, listening to the tape of Louder than Bombs that Bill made for her. She replays what happened in her head as she walks. She reflects that she is good at knowing what another girl needs, but Boone is not. She wonders if it’s ok to be mad at her for that.

She wonders if she is doing the right thing.  

She gets home at 5:00, grabs a bag of frozen peas from the freezer, goes to the bathroom to put eye drops in her eyes, and heads straight to Bill’s room. He’s listening to Cyndi Lauper. She drags his desk chair around and slumps down into it, and places the bag on her sore neck.

Bill watches her. “You’re baked,” he finally says.

“I guess so.”

He smiles. “Good for you. Are you ok?”

She props her feet up on his bed and leans back, closing her eyes. “Sex injury,” she quips.

He laughs. “Is that how it is, little bro? You’re quite the stud.”

 _Stud_. Jillian likes this word. It’s another piece of the puzzle of herself that she’s beginning to work out.

“Dude, Cyndi Lauper? Are you really sitting here listening to this Girls Just Wanna Have Fun shit?” she asks.

“Oh no, you did not just say that,” says Bill. “You need an education right now if that’s the only song you associate her with.” He taps the stereo controls. “This is When U Were Mine. It’s a cover of a Prince song. Check this out…”

They hang out in his room until it’s time for dinner, listening to his 80s music collection and talking about different songs. He promises to make her tapes of She’s So Unusual and Purple Rain.

* * *

 

Three weeks later, Boone forgets Jillian for the first time. It’s a Friday, and Jillian is hoping that they will spend time together that weekend.

She waits for Boone after her last class of the day. Boone said she would be there. She waits for 20 minutes before deciding to walk home alone. She worries about what might have happened. She calls Boone and leaves a message, and nervously waits all night for the phone to ring.

When Boone calls the following afternoon, she sounds worn out.

“I’m so sorry. Randy scored some acid and wanted me to come to his place, and I forgot.”

 “You forgot me because you wanted to get high with some dude? I worried about you.” Jillian feels stupid for worrying about her. She feels stupid for having this conversation. She hangs up the phone. When it rings again, she picks up the receiver and hangs it up immediately. Her foster parents are annoyed when it rings again, and Jillian doesn’t want to explain.

“Just don’t answer it,” she says. “She’ll stop calling eventually.”

Bill is out with his college friends. She goes to her room and feels more alone than she has in a while.

The next Monday on the way to school, Boone begs for her forgiveness. She is crying. Jillian walks faster. Randy catches up to her and says it was his fault.

“She’s broken up about this,” he says. “She spent all weekend at my place getting drunk and crying about you.”

Jillian closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to listen, but her heart hurts at the thought of causing someone else so much pain. She lets Boone catch up to her.

Boone hugs Jillian and cries into her hair. She says she’s sorry over and over. Jillian holds her. She feels strangely like she’s comforting Boone, which doesn’t seem quite right.

That afternoon she goes home with Boone. Boone holds her and kisses her. After they make out for a while, Boone rolls a joint. They smoke it in silence while listening to music. She tells Jillian about a party this weekend she wants her to come to, at a friend’s house. Jillian says yes.

Boone rolls another joint, but Jillian is already feeling more stoned than she really wants to be. She leans back on her elbows and watches Boone smoke it alone.

For the first time since they met, Jillian feels bored with Boone. After the pot wears off a bit, she tells Boone she has homework and leaves.

* * *

 

The party that weekend is at the house of one of the many guys Boone hangs out with. Jillian never learns his name. Boone puts a red Solo cup of beer in her hand as soon as she arrives. It is Jillian’s first beer. She doesn’t like how it tastes, but she doesn’t like the music at the party either, so she keeps drinking to test a theory that intoxication will make things more pleasant. She finds that it does.

She follows Boone through the party staying merrily drunk all night, shaking her shoulders to the music. People are dancing. She watches them pogo around and slam against each other. She pulls Boone off to the side to dance with her away from the aggressive press of bodies. She grinds against Boone to the rhythm of the music. Some of the boys at the party are staring at them. She doesn’t care. Boone takes her hand.

“Come with me.”

Boone leads her upstairs to a bedroom, and shuts the door. She turns out the lights behind them, then pulls Jillian’s shirt off. She pushes Jillian to the bed. In her drunken state, Jillian is unable to do anything to change their positions. She feels a rush of anxiety.

Boone slides Jillian’s pants off of her legs, and says “I want to try going down on you.”

“Ok.”

She lies on her back, staring into the darkness as Boone begins to lick her. Jillian is too aware of the new sensations of being drunk. She can feel herself breathing. Her head is hazy in a much different way than pot makes it feel. It is heavy and full on her shoulders. Her extremities are numb. She finds it hard to focus on what Boone is doing. She tries to force herself to concentrate.

Suddenly the door opens, and a shaft of light falls across Jillian’s naked body. A boy stands in the doorway and even though she can only see his silhouette, she can tell he’s lost. She grabs for the bedsheets to cover herself. He sees her and stares at them.

 “Get out,” Jillian says. He takes a step back and hesitates. “Get the fuck out!” she shouts, and he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

“You don’t have to be such a dick about it,” says Boone.

Jillian rolls away from her and sits up. She starts searching for her shirt.

“Are we doing this again?” Boone asks. “Why do you have to get so pissed about everything?”

Jillian doesn’t know what to say. She shouldn’t have to explain why she didn’t want a boy to watch her have sex. She’s frustrated that Boone doesn’t understand.

“No, we aren’t doing this again,” Jillian says, pulling on her pants. “I’m going to get another drink and to dance. Join me if you decide to stop being a bitch.”

She walks downstairs, hating herself for saying it. She gets another beer, and joins the crowd of people jumping and slamming into each other. It feels good after the fight. Eventually she sees Boone at the edge of the crowd, looking sullen. She goes to her.

They walk outside to the back yard together. Boone apologizes and kisses Jillian softly. She rolls a joint and they smoke it.

Minutes later, Jillian is on her hands and knees vomiting on the grass. Boone holds her hair and rubs her back. She vomits until there is nothing left, and then she retches painfully. When she finally stops, her body and head hurt but she feels clearer.

“I have to go home.”

Jillain calls the private phone in Bill’s room. When he arrives he hands her a bottle of orange Gatorade.

“Slowly,” is all he says. She nods and sips it as they drive. He doesn’t go home. They drive around town in silence while Jillian nurses her drink. Eventually she feels better and pushes a CD into his stereo, but keeps the volume low.

“How are you doing, Jill?” says Bill.

“I’m better, now, thanks.”

“No, I mean in general. With Boone.”

She doesn’t respond.

“Things seem pretty intense lately, is all,” he says. They drive silently for a while longer. “Just remember that you don’t have to do anything you don’t like, ok?” 

Jillian laughs ruefully. “Sure.” She is trying to play it cool for Bill, but she thinks about what he says. She wonders if she’s doing things she doesn’t like. (Is she doing things she doesn’t like?)

“Oh, and don’t mix weed and alcohol,” he says.

“Yeah, I think I figured that one out,” she says, letting out a sigh. “Thanks,” she adds, hoping she doesn’t sound ungrateful. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

He smiles. “Anytime, little bro.”

* * *

 

Boone gets Jillian a fake ID. On weekends, she drives Jillian into the city and they go to bars to see bands. Jillian tries to get Boone to go to the 80s darkwave night that Bill likes to go to, but Boone complains that she doesn’t like that music. At the bars, Jillian gets drunk and dances, and sometimes they argue. When Boone is mean to Jillian, she is mean back, and then Boone backs down and apologizes. It feels almost the same as standing up for herself. It feels close enough to convince herself most of the time.

They go to Boone’s place every day after school to have sex and get high – unless Boone forgets Jillian and goes off with her friends. This happens two more times.

At school, Jillian makes the honors program but can barely stay awake most days. She sleeps through math and science class most of the time. Her teachers fight it until they realize she makes straight A’s anyway. The only class that does not come easy is honors Literature. She forces herself to stay awake and works hard on her homework in order to keep her A in that class.

Her foster parents grow more and more concerned with her behavior. One day while she’s writing a paper in her room, she hears Bill arguing with them. They think she’s getting out of control. He tells them she’s just going through a lot. She puts on her headphones and turns up the volume.

One night, Jillian is dancing while Boone sits at the bar. A woman approaches and starts dancing with her. Jillian is surprised at this, and for a while she can only watch in amazement, wondering if the woman is really into her. When the woman places her hands on her hips, Jillian smiles and shakes her head.

 “I have a girlfriend,” she says, and points to the bar. At the bar, Boone is making out with Randy.

Jillian’s face goes pale. She heads to the bar, wanting to yell and scream and pound her fists against Boone. When she gets there, she puts a hand on her arm.

Boone pulls away from Randy, and her face slowly registers the shock that Jillian has seen them.

“Forgot me again,” says Jillian. It is not a question. She shakes her head, and then turns to walk away.

Randy grabs her shoulder. “Hey, Jill, it’s not what you think…”

She turns violently, throwing his hand off of her shoulder, but he’s closer to her than she thinks. Her elbow bashes him in the nose, and he falls to the floor bleeding. As he falls, he grabs for the bar and his pint glass crashes to the floor with him.

The police officer that is working security runs over to the three, and soon their IDs are being examined with a scrutiny that they were not given at the door. He calls their parents.

Jillian sits outside on the curb next to the security guard, thinking about alternate universes. In another universe, she did not accidentally hit Randy.  In another universe, she never started drinking or smoking weed.

In another universe, she decided not to date Boone.

* * *

 

The following day, her social worker visits her foster parents. Jillian sits at the kitchen table next to Bill as they discuss her rapidly changing behavior. Bill holds her hand the whole time. He squeezes it when they decide that she will be removed and put in rehab before placement in a different home. Jillian wants to collapse against him, but she just stares at his hand on hers. Her eyes fill with tears, but she fights hard and somehow manages to keep them from overflowing.

* * *

She is the ideal patient in rehab. She attends every meeting and does everything that is expected of her. The only place where she does not perform exactly as her sponsor wants is in group therapy. She barely speaks at all in group. She is sick of letting people close to her. Hardly anyone there knows her first name. She only answers to Holtzmann now.

* * *

In three months’ time, she is placed in a new home. Her new foster father tells her that he knows she caused trouble in her last home, and if she steps one toe out of line here, she will be back in the system before she knows it. Holtzmann stares at him and silently accepts his challenge.

At her new school, she quickly figures out how to get a fake ID. The following Saturday night, she goes through her clothes, looking for the right outfit. She went out with Boone so many times just to make Boone happy. Now she wants to go out for herself. She wants to look the way she felt when she would take control with Boone.

She puts on black jeans and her black combat boots. She picks out a gray vest and considers her options, and takes off her T-shirt and then puts the vest on with no shirt beneath it. She appraises herself in the mirror, then sneaks into her foster father’s room and takes a tie. After a few failed attempts, she ties it properly and then checks the mirror again.

She looks at her hair, which has gone too long without a cut and has become big instead of long. Pulling it into a ponytail does not do anything to truly tame her hair. She tries pinning it up, but it is tall on top of her head. She looks in the mirror and narrows her eyes. With this outfit, it actually looks pretty good pinned up. She smiles.

After her foster father has gone to bed, she takes his car keys. She rolls the car out of the driveway and starts it once she’s on the street, and then drives downtown, wind blowing through her wild hair.

Once she’s downtown, she finds the bar Bill told her about. She can hear the sounds of 80s darkwave as she pulls up. She feels awkward getting out of her car in her new outfit. She’s not sure if everyone else will see what she sees in the mirror.

Once inside, her concerns vanish. She is dressed like no one else, but the crowd inside is such a motley mix of outfits that it does not matter. She goes to the bar and orders a beer, and before long she is pleasantly buzzed and on the dance floor. The dancing is completely different from the grunge rock bars that Boone preferred, but it lines up with the way Holtzmann feels music. She is right at home.

A compact, curvy redhead in a black corset and skirt dances up to her. Holtzmann moves closer to her and drapes an arm around her neck. After dancing for a while, she risks a kiss. The woman kisses her back, and Holtzmann wraps her arms around her waist and slides one hand down to her ass. She can’t stop thinking of that black skirt, and how much she would like to be under it. She wonders how the redhead would react if she took her to the ladies room.

She feels a hand on her shoulder, and turns to find Boone staring at her.

“Hey, little Jill,” she says.

She pushes Boone’s hand away. “Don’t call me that.”

The girl in Holtzmann’s arms looks from Boone to Holtzmann, and then steps away. “I’m not looking for any drama tonight, baby,” she says, and disappears into the crowd.

Holtzmann glares at Boone then turns away. Boone follows her to the bar, apologizing.

“Let me buy you a drink to make up for it.” She orders a couple of shots.

Holtzmann misses the name of the drink in the noise of the bar, but she drinks it fast when it is placed in front of her. It burns on the way down her throat and she has to lock her jaw to keep herself from cringing at the taste, but she waves the bartender over for a second round.

 “Since you’re buying. I thought you hated this kind of music.”  

“I’m into goth now. It’s cool,” says Boone.

“Poser.”

Holtzmann rolls her eyes at Boone and slams back the second shot. She looks away from her, angry at herself for falling into their old routine; being mean and getting drunk. She looks at Boone’s eyes. She looks sad and hurt. Holtzmann’s heart aches, but her mind says _she is very good at looking sad and hurt_. She stands up and looks Boone in the eyes.

“Thanks for the drinks.” She walks away.

On the dance floor, her head is heavy and her feet are unsteady. Holtzmann has never had liquor before. The idea that she’s had too much slowly intrudes.

Boone approaches her and before Holtzmann can react, she takes her in her arms and they are dancing together.

“I miss you, Jill,” she says into her ear.

“Call me Holtzmann,” she says. Her slurred voice surprises her.

Boone cradles Holtzmann’s face in her hand and kisses her. Holtzmann starts to push away, but she is drawn in by the familiarity of Boone’s touch. She savors the taste and the feel of her, and wishes she could forget everything that went wrong.

She taught her to kiss, and to fuck, and to feel wanted – and unwanted. _She created and destroyed me_ , thinks Holtzmann. She leans harder into her, and Boone wraps her into a tight embrace.

Holtzmann slowly becomes aware of a hand stroking her arm. She pulls away from Boone’s lips to find Randy is behind Boone, kissing her neck while his hand wanders over Holtzmann’s skin. He smiles at her. “Hey, Jill,” he says.

Holtzmann tries to pull away. Boone hangs onto her.

“I need to leave,” Holtzmann says. She is dizzy with alcohol. She struggles to find her way through the haze.

Randy moves beside the two girls and puts an arm around each of them. “Don’t go,” he says. “You are so beautiful together.” He leans close to Holtzmann’s face.

“Stop,” she says, cringing and jerking her face away from him.

He grabs her by the jaw. “Hey. We’re just having a good time, Jill. It’s not a big deal.”

She is cold with panic. “Please stop,” she says, looking to Boone.

“It’s not a big deal, Jill,” says Boone.

Randy tightens his grip and kisses Holtzmann. She clenches her teeth, fighting a wave of nausea.

Suddenly Randy seems to fly away from her. As his grip on her is yanked loose, she lurches uncontrollably forward. She stumbles to one knee, and someone grabs her by the back of her vest and lifts her to her feet. Holtzmann sways wildly trying to find her balance. She falls backward into the body of a tall man with black eyeliner and his hair shaved on the sides.

“Come on little bro. Time to go.”

Bill straightens her up so that she is steady on her feet, and she sees Randy sprawled on his back on the floor. He rises to a crouch and seems ready to pounce, when a shirtless man in black leather pants shoves him back to the floor.

“Stay down, kid,” he says, mildly. He turns to Bill. “Let’s get her out of here.”

Outside, Holtzmann vomits immediately. Bill guides her away when she is done, and she stumbles to the curb and sits down. She sits still for a while, catching her breath. She feels a little clearer now.

“I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour,” she sings softly, “but heaven knows I’m miserable now.”

Bill shakes his head at her. “Feel better now that you’ve got that cliché out of your way?” he asks, smiling at her. “What are you doing messing around with her again, Jill?”

Holtzmann looks up at him.  He’s wearing black leather pants and a mesh shirt. The shirtless man with him has his arm around Bill. He’s taller than Bill, with a more muscular build. His fingernails are painted black.

Holtzmann’s mind is full of questions that she can’t seem to organize into any sort of order, so she gestures at the two of them. “What is all this?”

Bill grins at the man holding him, and looks back to Holtzmann. “This is my boyfriend, Patrick,” he says. “We’re living together now. I moved out after you left.”

Holtzmann looks stunned. “You never told me. Jesus, I was so selfish, I never asked about you…”

“Stop it, little bro,” says Bill. “It’s OK.”

She looks at him and shakes her head. “You’re not my brother anymore, Bill,” she says, her voice full of regret.

“Yes I am. I don’t care what happens. I’m still here for you.” He looks at Patrick, and then back at her. “Come to our place for the weekend.”

“Bill, I can’t do that to you!” Her eyes fill with tears. “I don’t want you getting in any trouble over me. This new foster father I have – it’s not good. And I took his car,” she adds, looking down. “They’ll come after me for theft and you’ll get mixed up in it.”

“Then we return the car,” says Bill, “and then we take you back to our place. Just for the weekend. Sounds like you’re doing everything you can to get out of this house fast?”

She narrows her eyes. “Maybe,” she quips.

“So take a break for the weekend before you get yourself back into the system.”

 “I’ll make you breakfast,” adds Patrick. Outside of the noise of the bar, Holtzmann can hear that he has an effeminate voice with a musical quality to it. She smiles. She likes him immediately.

* * *

 

They drop the car off, and she sleeps on Bill and Patrick’s couch. In the morning she wakes up to a fat gray cat curled up on her hip. Patrick cooks while Bill and Holtzmann catch up with each other. She talks about rehab, and how she is continuing with honors classes at her new school. Her grades are excellent, and she thinks she can get a good scholarship for college. He talks about changing his major, and about his decision to finally move out after his parents put her back in the system.

After breakfast, the two take cups of coffee out to the balcony of his apartment, which overlooks the city. The cat follows and climbs up in her lap. She learns that it is Patrick’s cat, Ripley. She pets Ripley and talks about all the problems she had with Boone. She tells him the things she has not told anyone. She tells him she had not seen her for months before last night.

“I don’t know how I got caught up in her again,” she says, her voice quavering.

Bill sips his coffee, and she can see that he’s thinking about what to say. “It’s not bad that you fell for someone,” he says, finally. “And we all have to learn somehow. Don’t beat yourself up.”

 “I still don’t get how love works.” She scratches her head. “I mean. Not like that, obviously. I see what it isn’t.”

She looks back through the storm doors. Patrick is singing to himself while he cleans breakfast dishes.

“I see that you two have it.”

Bill smiles. “We do.”

 Holtzmann smiles back. “That’s really great.”

“And you and me,” Bill says. “You’re my little bro. I love you, Jill.”

Her eyes well up with tears. This time she doesn’t try to stop them.

“I love you too, Bill.”

She reaches out and takes his hand. He takes hers, and squeezes it.

**Author's Note:**

> This hurt to write. In fact, Holtzmann's brother was an angel of protection that insisted on flying in to help her, because otherwise I would feel like I was just beating her up (and even then I fought it because I wasn't crazy about her being rescued by a man - but geez. She's just a kid). I love Holtz, I hate that this is the past she has in this story - but all of us come from somewhere. This is an examination of experiences that makes us the adults we become, and the things we do for love, particularly when we are very lonely. 
> 
> And I'm pretty sure some of you will hate it. 
> 
> For those of you that don't, there will be at least two more. I'd like to tell you this one will be the toughest read, but it's a bit early to make promises. The other two are in progress, and this one was definitely the hardest to write.


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